


Destiny's Disability

by fawatson



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: Athos is annexed by Barrayar and a disabled man comes into his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minutia_R](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/gifts).



> **Prompt:** I am so curious about the fallout of the events of Ethan of Athos. How does Athosian society change when the first telepathic children are born, or when most of Athos becomes telepathic.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own this universe and make no profit by it.
> 
>  **Acknowledgements:** Many thanks to my sister for her editing suggestions.

Over the centuries Athos had come to know it was considered a sleepy backwater. It was not entirely what the Founding Fathers had expected. They had, it was true, selected their planet partly for its remote location, far from the contaminating influence of the rest of the female-dominated galaxy. But they had expected that, in time (and with the guiding light of Athos illuminating the way) the rest of the galaxy would throw off its yoke of womankind and follow. Gradually, they had realised that was not going to happen; gradually Athos had accepted its role as provider of sanctuary for the wounded who fled the corruption of the rest of the known universe – a trickle of immigration as leaven to the loaf, so to speak. Athos had settled into its quiet existence, secretly pleased not to have to cope with the potentially disrupting influence of too many refugees (once the risk of too much in-breeding was resolved by Dr Urquhart’s selfless mission three hundred years before). Athos had, in a word, become somewhat smug.

Until, that is, not one but _two_ space navies suddenly appeared in its vicinity one fine sunny morn. The annual galactic census ship had come and gone two months before, which meant no one was expecting to see any ship, far less sixty craft of various sizes and intimidating armaments. Their arrival coincided with Founders Day celebrations, which meant no one was monitoring the communications system: it had been left on an automatic loop to enable the techs to go watch the parade. That meant no one realised anything was happening until after events had unfolded. Or rather: until after the explosion which destroyed the spaceport. Given its proximity to Sevarin, that caught the attention of the Council pretty effectively. 

Wondering what had malfunctioned so spectacularly, a repair crew had been dispatched to investigate while festivities continued. When the engineers failed to report back, a military rescue squad had been sent after them. It had been sunset before anyone with real authority had gone, by which time both Cetagandans and Barrayarans had dug in behind barricades and were eyeing one another suspiciously over a no-man’s-land of rubble, taking occasional pot-shots (but for the most part concentrating on their respective evening meals). 

At first the elderly Council Member for Southern Province thought Athos had been invaded by aliens. Fortunately for his delicate heart, he was accompanied by the somewhat younger representative from Eastern Sea Region, who was a bit of a history buff, and recognised Ghem face paint. He had heard about it (even seen a drawing in one of his books); now he had a chance to fully appreciate the colourful swirls as the Colonel in charge coldly explained Athos was being annexed. The Barrayaran Commanding Officer hotly and vociferously contested. It was all rather _noisy_. 

In the end all sides agreed to adjourn for the night and the two Council members retrieved their engineering crew (who had made themselves useful to _both_ sides by repairing the toilets which had most unfortunately been accidentally destroyed in the explosion) and left. The Athosian military squad dug in for the night, at a vantage point that allowed them good oversight of both expeditionary forces. Earnestly charged by the Council Member for Southern Province to defend the honour of Athos to the last man, they appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. (So much more satisfying than endless training exercises, explained their Captain to the Council Member for Eastern Sea Region who just happened to be his uncle.) 

Over the next few weeks a series of public announcements and education broadcasts revealed the awful truth: not one but two wormholes had been discovered in local space. One reached from Sergyar to Athos; the other from Rho Ceta. Athos had been transformed from dead-end to the front line of a nasty interstellar confrontation. Conquest was barely avoided through diplomacy. Strict laws applied to the use (or misuse) of telepathy on Athos. Not without qualms about the moral example being set, the urgency of finding a solution Athos could live with – one in which Athosian interests were not overshadowed by the two superpowers – led the Council to issue secret orders to the Athosian representatives: normal etiquette and privacy legislation were suspended for the duration. The Athosian representatives received special dispensation to _use_ their telepathy ruthlessly in the negotiations to achieve a peaceful solution. 

Sadly, the expected advantage from knowing the true thoughts of the Cetagandan and Barrayaran leaders did not materialise. Athosians were simply overwhelmed by the strangely twisted mentalities they encountered in both Cetagandans and Barrayarans. Several delegates had to be hospitalised after exposure to the aggressive mindset of the foreign powers; even those not as severely affected found it impossible to continue negotiations when nausea meant they spent more time in the toilet than at the bargaining table. Reluctantly, the Athosian Council had to accept that their centuries-old decisions which meant the populace was carefully sheltered from contamination from the outside world also left them unable to deal with the unquiet minds of their cosmopolitan neighbours. Ultimately, Athos had had to bow to the inevitable: diplomacy had failed. No longer could it remain independent. It would have to choose which empire to join. 

Thus, outright (and potentially very bloody) conflict gave way to a war of propaganda, initially directed at the Ruling Council. However, once the Councillors had announced that all Athosians of voting age would decide in a referendum, the newscasts had been dominated by each side presenting its case. Hitherto Athosians had been sheltered from the realities of what life was like on their galactic neighbours. Now they were bombarded with facts and figures about scientific progress and trade advantages. They were inundated with pictures of happy citizens of both empires, all carefully edited to ensure no contaminating influence by the…other half of the species. They were overwhelmed by magnificent concerts and plays showcasing the cultural heritage that would become theirs, if they only voted this way or that. They were buried under history books (and action-packed historical vids) detailing the glories of both empires. In short, Athosians became thoroughly confused by the overload of information. 

It was clearly in Barrayar’s favour that it was ruled by a man; but so was Cetaganda. Athosians were heartened, though, once they learned only _men_ could join the Council of Counts. There was just something very _right_ about an empire ruled by men. Even more ‘right’ was a ruling Council that celebrated when a woman joined the righteous by raising him to Count (that case from a few hundred years ago of Dono Vorrutyer featured large in the background reading about Barrayar circulated prior to referendum). True, there was a small group of hardline Athosians who maintained that having originally been raised female meant Dono simply _could not_ become truly male, no matter how skilful Betan surgery. To the average Athosian, though, the fact Barrayaran society had convinced a female to change sex was a hopeful sign. Those hopes were raised further once Athosian historians came across the ancient time-of-isolation case of Lord Midnight, stallion heir apparent to a Count who, in the days before the miracles of uterine replicators, had had the misfortune to sire only female offspring. It all helped Athosians to embrace Barrayar as their emotional cousins (perhaps a little backward in comparison to Athosians, but what else could be expected from a world with so many women?) Nonetheless, the sheer wealth of the Cetagandan empire held a certain attractiveness so the opinion polls showed the vote fairly evenly split up to 24 hours before decision day, at which point a certain fact, hitherto hidden in the memoires of one Miles Vorkosigan, long dead ‘Voice’ of a long dead Emperor of Barrayar, came to light: the Cetagandan Star Crèche which controlled reproduction was run by women. The next day, Athosian men voted overwhelmingly in favour of annexation by Barrayar. 

And so, the happy decision was made, from Barrayar's perspective, at least. Its borders were secure. There was now an Athosian Desk within ImpSec HQ. Its staff was quite tiny (three to be precise, one of whom was part-time). But since Barrayar did not interfere with the internal governance of this new addition to its empire, and since the inward-looking Athosians were firmly opposed to the kind of plots and stratagems that kept the Komarran desk busy, just three were needed. The Athosian desk at ImpSec mainly served to brief whichever Viceroy the Emperor appointed, explaining local customs and belief systems so that sensibilities were not upset. Since no women were allowed to set foot on Athosian soil, ImpSec recommended widowers as posts became vacant, recommendations which were universally endorsed by the Emperor whose disinterest in Athos itself was profound (the space station situated beside the wormhole being another matter entirely). There was a steady rotation of appointments as officials were sent and asked to be recalled with alarming speed, until the Head of ImpSec had the brilliant idea of ensuring they sent only gay men. It proved a happy solution. In fact, far from wanting out almost as soon as he arrived, the next appointee applied to emigrate to Athos rather than be replaced. It had created a different kind of problem, though one that was, on balance, easier to resolve. All in all, Barrayar considered the money it had spent on propaganda during the lead-up to the referendum money very well spent. 

Athos probably had a bigger adjustment to make; but the populace had made the decision, by landslide majority, that Barrayar was the lesser of two evils. (One man had voted otherwise but he was later discovered to be suffering from acute porphyria at the time.) The Council members, true servants of their constituents, set about to make this decision _work_ for their people. A small block of flats was built next to the spaceport to accommodate the new Viceroy and his reassuringly small entourage. The Athosian Council hired an additional administrator to keep track of the statistical returns Barrayar demanded; but otherwise life went on as normal. Once in a while news filtered through about plots and counter-plots on Barrayar itself, Komarr, and (increasingly) Sergyar. Athosians eschewed all such; they considered political unrest – especially the violent kind –the result of the pernicious female influence. The Athosian Council congratulated itself that the superiority of a world ruled by men was being demonstrated in how trouble-free an addition to empire their lovely planet had been. Perhaps in time the Barrayaran Emperor would see the wisdom in relocating his government to Athos.

Nonetheless, even though, in general, the annexation progressed smoothly, there was one challenge that proved much more troubling. The problem rested in finding a suitable Athosian Envoy to Barrayar. According to the treaty settlement, a small Athosian consulate was supposed to be maintained in Vorbarr Sultana, ostensibly to aid Athosian citizens visiting the capital. But Athosians were notable homebodies; they _never_ ventured off-planet (at least not voluntarily). In reality, the Envoy was there to provide a presence, not to mention a bag of gold, on the Emperor’s Birthday. This normally also coincided with the Athosian Council of Fathers submitting applications for funding for some project. Commonly funding was being sought for a new Reproduction Centre, the building of which, not to mention the operational costs, normally exceeded Emperor’s Birthday gift of gold by a satisfactory margin. The Athosian Envoy to Barrayar had the unenviable task of convincing the Council of Counts – a body unalterably opposed to homosexuality as a way of life (the only thing conservatives and progressives were united about) – to approve the grant; failing that, the Emperor. 

The first few years, Athos had sent its finest: well-educated, morally upright, clean-living, and exceptionally skilled men, first in their fields, superb mediators all, whose charm and wit persuaded all they met of the intrinsic justice of their cause, and, most importantly: all totally dedicated to the betterment of Athos. Sadly, constant exposure to the emotional and mental hostility of men corrupted by women had taken its toll. Each returned by special courier, months before their term of office had finished, hollow wrecks of their former selves. Clearly filling the post of Envoy needed a different approach. No more would Athos send its best and brightest - its most talented - to their doom. They began to search for a man with a very rare attribute. They found Alexis.

* * * * *

Athos spaceport had a large picture window that looked out over ripe cornfields. Alexis watched as, in the distance, a combine harvester methodically crossed back and forth. He remembered doing that the summer he was eighteen, helping out his father on the family farm, in between finishing high school and starting his two years mandatory service. Long hours alone in the cab of the tractor listening to music while guiding the machinery round the fields had provided welcome respite from the thoughtless cruelty of his peers. Would that were him in the cab now. It had been a strange and convoluted path that had brought him here to this small waiting room on Athos’ sole spaceport – a journey filled with pain at the realisation he was not like other men and never would be…. 

* * * * *

“But why me?” Alexis protested to his father whose careworn face held an odd mixture of sympathy and sternness. 

After a long fraught silence his father soberly replied, “Only God the Father can answer that question, my son; and I have prayed long and hard for that answer but, in His wisdom, He has never replied.” 

“Wisdom!” Alexis scoffed. “I don’t believe there IS any ‘God-the-Father! Or if there is, he’s not anyone _I’d_ want to worship – letting me be born with this disability when he’s ‘Oh-so-powerful’ and could have prevented it! God is good? I don’t think so!” 

Fists clenched Alexis turned his back on his own father and found himself facing the large framed family portrait hung on the wall. It had been the last time the whole family had all been together at the same time and his father had decided to commemorate the occasion by getting this formal picture taken. His father and his father’s life partner, both full-bearded, stood either side of their four sons, three tall strapping young men, two with moustaches, all with beaming grins – and Alexis. Taken three years before, he had been put front and centre in the family group. In a family which ran to height, as the youngest at 12 he had also been the smallest, with smooth cheeks and the thinness of youth just starting those hormonal changes that would enable him to fully join the community – or so he had thought. He would never really be part of his family now. 

“Of course you’re part of this family!” protested his father from behind. “You are my son!” 

“Stay out of my head!” yelled Alexis, turning round to glare at his father. “Just because I can’t hear you doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a little kid and listen to me all the time!” 

“Sorry, my boy.” 

That apology stopped Alexis in his tracks and he looked – really looked – deep into his father’s blue eyes. It wasn’t the first time he remembered seeing his father crying; but he didn’t think he’d ever seen such anguish before. He had never doubted his father loved him; and when his father said he had prayed, he knew what that meant: long hours on his knees and much soul searching. Nikos was a devout man. No doubt after this conversation he would be on his knees again. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Alexis said contritely, “I didn’t really mean what I said about God.” 

“I know, Son,” came his father’s calm reply, “Just as Job questioned, so must you. I don’t know what purpose God has in this; I just know there must be some special destiny which He has in mind for you. ” 

Alexis was not so certain; but he knew he could not test his father’s faith any more than he already had. “Did the doctors say there really isn’t anything _anyone_ can do?” he asked. “Some kind of hormonal treatment, maybe – or surgery?” 

“I asked,” Nikos admitted, “when we were first warned it might not be that you were just a late developer. Apparently that’s been tried before, and it doesn’t work. I don’t really know why – something about the brain having to grow the pathways from birth or it just ignores the signals from the telepathy gland – tunes them out so to speak." 

“And it’s never going to change?” Alexis could hear the pleading in his voice – the need for his father to make it right, the way he had made all his childish woes better over the years. Only this wasn’t a little child’s problem – this was important. This was about _hearing_ people – being a part of the community – being able to talk to his friends – being able to _feel_ his friends. Being able to find a lover. (Who would want to be his lover, when he couldn’t feel him properly?) “Never?” 

Nikos gave a deep sigh. “In every generation there are a few people who grow up dis–” He paused again before continuing awkwardly, “without the gland that lets us speak to each other in our minds. It seems.…” There was another even longer pause before he continued, “a few years ago the doctors identified that it seems to be associated with children from the EQ-1 culture, but only if they have….” Another pause prefaced the next, “fathers from certain families – all too often from _our_ family.” That last had come as much in a rush as his previous words had come slowly, “because we have always favoured the EQ-1 culture – because it is a tradition in our family to have at least one son an EQ-1 in every generation – because it sort of _accumulates_ if there is too much EQ-1 in the family, so every once in a while a son is born…without.” 

Alexis caught his breath at the sight of such naked misery on his father’s face. 

“And I followed the tradition,” Nikos ended, tears streaming down his face, hands open in a pleading gesture. “They did counsel me not to, years ago, the doctors at the reproduction centre, saying it was taking a risk not to have as much genetic diversity as possible. But they didn’t _know_ about this back then. And EQ-1 sons have always been the strongest and brightest – they’ve always had that special spark, that sense of adventure – and I wanted that for _you_. I am _so_ sorry, Son.” 

Father and son stood staring at one another for long moments. 

“You gave me life, Father,” Alexis said finally. “Never apologise for that.” 

* * * * *

With the exception of hand-to-hand combat (which, in modern times, was really an anachronistic holdover from centuries past) military life was one of the few fields on Athos where telepathy afforded no advantage. Real fighting involved high-tech – and quite unthinking – machines, all of which required maintenance. Two years of military service had opened up farm-boy Alexis’ eyes to new avenues. After his required time was up he re-enlisted, opting for engineering training (free if he re-upped). 

Long years later– at the awards ceremony celebrating Dr Alexis Urquhart's innovative invention of a new exchange solution system for uterine replicators – Alexis ran into his old college careers advisor. The man had smiled knowingly as he congratulated Alexis on this latest honour, and introduced him to a skinny resentful-looking teenager who wanted to show him the device he’d been tinkering with. “I thought you would hit it off,” he said two hours later after he reunited the geeky lad with his father who had come to collect him. He laughed as Alexis gave him a quizzical look. “Didn’t you know? You communication-challenged are normally brilliant with machines. It’s classic compensation for your interpersonal problems.” 

Alexis would have felt resentment, except even one as psi-null as he was could see the logic. He had never formed a long-term relationship – never found another man who wanted to spend his life with Alexis. Oh, some were willing to _experiment_ for a while, but willing to commit? Willing to have _children_ with him? No – not with the head-blind. In the end, his was quite a solitary existence, his passion spent on his work. It was not a _bad_ life. Just a bit lonely. 

* * * * * 

Alexis had not been the Council’s first choice to send as Envoy. His genius at inventing new and improved medical technology made him too valuable to send off-planet. But the pool of possible psi-nulls was quite small. And whoever they sent had to represent the _best_ of Athosian values. Sadly, most disabled men were less than sound in their faith (one or two were even atheists!). But however much Alexis had railed at God as a teenager, in the end he had found strength in his faith. As his father had found before him. 

And so he was drafted, and told it was his duty. The Council Member who convinced him to go promised it would only be for one year. “We can’t spare an engineering genius like you for longer – the Reproduction Centres would never tolerate it. _Somewhere_ we’ll find another dumbie for next year.” (Somehow Alexis did not find that reassuring, but perhaps it was the tactless way the Council Member had phrased it). He was told he needed to be stalwart and brave. (The quavering voice of the elderly Councillor who said this at his briefing suggested not everyone shared this bravery.) In the end it was his dead father’s Designated Alternate who had convinced him: “It must be God’s plan to turn your special problem into a positive attribute; Nikos would be pleased.” 

* * * * * 

Alexis turned away from the spaceport window, eyes swimming. If only his father could have known. He would have been so proud to see his son taking on this responsibility. But no one could have foreseen the future. Everyday mind-to-mind speech was just another form of communication, not some comic-book hero superpower of precognition. Alexis looked at the stiffly formal portrait of the Emperor on the wall opposite; who could have anticipated Athos would be annexed? Certainly not his father. Who could have supposed Athos’ crippled son would be chosen to represent the world? Again: not Nikos.

Alexis also knew he would not be taking this step had his father not died in an accident during a trip to Sevarin a few years ago. In one shocking afternoon, Alexis had lost the only person in the world who had always had his back, who had never made fun of his disabilities, who had always believed in him. The loneliness of forever being a least slightly on the outside of human society, of marching to a different drummer from _everyone_ else for years, had made him receptive when the Council approached him for this duty. Father had always been proud of Alexis’ accomplishments. But, being chosen to represent Athos wouldn’t have made Father feel _proud_ : he would have felt _vindicated_. 

It was time to board the shuttle that would take him to the space ship. Alexis threw a vague salute at the Emperor’s picture, picked up his duffle-bag, and, with one last wistful glance out the picture window toward the cornfield, followed the pilot down the corridor toward the landing pad. As he strapped himself into his seat on the shuttle, Alexis felt a frisson of anxiety. He had never been off-planet. He had not dreamed of travel; he liked his pipe and slippers and comfy armchair by the fireplace. Yet now he was committed to living a whole year on a planet full of the head-blind. It was a daunting thought: that _no one_ on Barrayar was fully functioning. How an entire planet coped that way would be interesting to watch. Nonetheless Alexis felt a warm glow of satisfaction. For the first time since his adolescence he would be part of the majority. And, somewhere up in Heaven, his Father would be watching: Athos needed all its sons, even the disabled. He was fulfilling his destiny. 


End file.
